


Angelic Tears

by Ozymandi4s



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Smut, Non-Consensual Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 07:15:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21334330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozymandi4s/pseuds/Ozymandi4s
Summary: In case you all hadn't noticed, I have a major Tickle Fetish.
Kudos: 29





	Angelic Tears

Angel-A Being sent to act on behalf of God, or a person of exemplary conduct and virtue.

This was the definition of an Angel, but you knew for an indisputable fact that the creature that haunted the snowy woods outside your secluded home was anything but heavenly. 

She was, for this entity was female, a sadistic and cruel monster, which is ironic, for her kind were known for their choice of killing prey to be swift and merciful. By touching a living being, the Angel, through means you could never even begin to understand, sent those they come into contact with back in time, they would harvest the energy that was made from the displaced victim, using it to sustain themselves.

But your Angel, nameless and silent, save her occasional chuckle that never failed to make you shudder in fear, was not content with doing just this. No, she sought to draw out the hunt, to make every one of her quarries moments be filled brimming with terror, every blink of one's eyes drawing the grey-skinned being closer and closer still. 

Angel's could only move when not being viewed, to look at one turned their bodies to stone, frozen in whatever position and/or action they had been in the midst of performing until you look away, until your sight of them is broken. 

You knew it, she knew it, everyone knew it, one cannot keep their eyes open forever, nor could they stare.

Be it because there were other matters, or your eyes are heavy from exhaustion, or even simply be the need to moisturize them by blinking, your stare of the being would be broken, in that time she would glide ever nearer, until finally, she was mere centimeters away, your back pressed against the wall, one of her arms with the palm on the door you had been backed up onto, your only real exit.

Her face is youthful, with full cheeks and plump lips upon which a smile played. Her wings, like that of a hawk, nearly twice your height in their length pressed against her back, which is as slim and enticing as the rest of her body that wore nothing but a simple toga. 

She was looking right at you, her eyes pure grey orbs, the same grey as the rest of her body, riddled with cracks and lines common of weathered statues. 

Her hair is tied in a bun, pinned by an uninteresting brooch, other hand so close to your stomach that it would make contact if you exhaled the breath you were currently holding in.

Both your eyes burned, rapidly drying, needing you to blink, but to blink would end this chase, she would have you, your whole body screamed for this to happen, she had you all riled up and you could not take it anymore.

Your eyes close and in a flurry of motion, which no doubt would be seen as nothing but a blur, you are in the order that follows, Stripped to nothing, having a soft length of cloth wrapped around your head to ensure that you could not interrupt her even if you chose to open your eyes, although you would never dare such a thing, hauled across the room and tossed onto your bed, wrists and ankles bound to the rails, left spread-eagled and bare, all in the span of a single minute.

She giggles softly, you could only imagine the scene laid out before her, a scene consisting of you at her (lack thereof) mercy, unable to know what she would do next, the only indication being the rustle her wings produce, the creaking of the bedsprings, how the mattress sunk a bit as her weight was added to it.

And then, you feel it, the light ghosting of her petite hands' fingers running down your mid-drift, which contracts inward as you squirm. She titters as she trails across your stomach, wiggling a little once they reach your ribs.

Teeth gritted, you let out a groan that she mimics tauntingly, her digits play with your sides, flicking over them like the strings of a guitar, lips pressing themselves into your gut. 

Wiggling like the caught worm you are, you try and fail to suppress the breathless sigh of a laugh that escapes your mouth. Her touch pauses as she registers the sound, resuming after a beat, spidering over your body, grazing your goose-bumped skin in gentle motions, rising to tap their way across your breasts, which jiggle as you struggle against your bonds.

Her face is without a doubt grinning, the vampiric fangs normally hidden on full display, this being confirmed when you feel their points begin to nibble the hollow of your throat, soft, wet tongue tracing lines, tasting your flesh.

You whine like a puppy, thrusting your hips into her knee, which had pressed itself against your crotch, fingers having found your nipples, tweaking them roughly, watching as your chest rises and falls in sync with your hitching breath.

The Angel spreads her wings, taking a second to admire the feathered appendages, before ever so slowly lowering one to stroke your sides, dozens of thin, wispy points moving over your skin, forcing a husky chuckle free. 

Her cruel smile widens, her touch goes lower, lower, lower still, until you feel her hot breath on your groin, her tortuous hands massaging your feet, one cheek nuzzling your soles, digits tracing over the wrinkles that appear in them when you begin to scrunch your toes in futile attempt to avoid her exploration.

She loves it when you struggle, even when both of you know it was pointless. 

But it could not be helped that she was so turned on by this, this and you being so dammed ticklish!

Her fingers scribble over your helpless footsies, tapered nails scratching the sensitive flesh that begins to twitch and squirm, eyes screwed tight behind your blindfold, a smile having forced its way onto your face, gritted teeth parting to let out a deep laugh. The Angel no less then swoons at the noise, loving the riveting melody, continuing her torment of your feet without any care about your well being.

You laugh some more, pulling with all your might against the unyielding grip that kept you helpless underneath her, the sharp bite of the ropes digging into your skin is all you get as a result.

She plucks a single feather off a wing, sawing this between your toes, running it up and down your foot in agonizingly slow motions, all while her other hand carries on with its mad assault up your other foot, thus causing you to release a series of mirth filled chortles, each peal of forced laughter a sweet treat to her ears, a treat she could not get enough of.

BEhind your blindfold, tears stream from the corners of your eyes, head thrashing left and right as you fruitlessly beg for her to stop, even as your mind used what little rational thought it could form to say the complete opposite.

Her wings flick their tips across the shell of your ears, play with your belly, pulled taut from laughing so much, face presses itself into your thigh, kissing it with passion, each peck going higher, till she finds the source of your lust, which glistens in eager anticipation. 

Her tongue flicks out to taste your cunt, strong and tart, almost as delicious as your ticklish cackles, making your back arch, giggles turning into moans as she plays the flat of it across your labia, moving in counter-clockwise twirls over your clit before suckling on the hood, fingers at long last having ceased their torture, instead being used to pull apart your folds to allow her better access.

Mewling softly, you find your toes curling, head lolling to one side as another breathy sigh of pleasure echoes, hips rolling as the sensation makes all your body tingle.

Her exploration of your pussy is slow and methodic, each gentle lap making you writhe, every poke of it against your sensitive spots bringing forth a chorus of moans, all this growing higher in pitch with the passage of time.

Right as she has you teetering on the edge, her tongue recedes, causing you to whimper in eager fear, wondering what new torture she would subjugate you to.

The bed creaks as she moves, the heat of her body going up until you feel and smell what was hovering over your head. Without hesitation, you flick your tongue out, finding her love button as nibbling on it, her own sounds of approval being added to yours, muffled now due to her lowering her bottom onto your mouth, jaw working to get as much of her sweetness as it could.

Her thumb pushes down on your clit, rubbing it in circles as she returns her attention to your pussy, pushing as far as her taste organ could go, swirling around inside your body, mapping out the interior of your hot cunt.

Groaning with delight, you mimic the action from your end, the vibrations caused by the sounds of the pair of you's pleasure only adding to the fun.

Oh, how you wished you had your arms free, you'd grab this Angel by the neck and push her to the ground, ravage her cunt with your mouth until she screamed, but this would have to do.

For all her haughtiness and desire to dominate you, it never fails to surprise when she arches her spine, wings spread as far as they could, shuddering just as intensely as the rest of her body, accompanied by a keening note of delight as her walls contract, soaking your face in her love, delving her fingers into your own hole and pumping wildly until you sing with joy, wetting her hand, which unknown to you are sucked clean of every drop. 

She unties you, but you choose not to remove the blindfold, feeling as her arms loop around your waist, lips finding your's in a tender kiss, fingers combing through the others hair, the gentle touch of both wings enveloping you in their embrace.

You need not see her to know the love that fills her eyes, nor she need your's to see the same.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you all hadn't noticed, I have a major Tickle Fetish.


End file.
